


Poem Collection

by ShadesOfGrey



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 07:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadesOfGrey/pseuds/ShadesOfGrey
Summary: Just a database of poetry I've done
Kudos: 2
Collections: Poetry





	1. Fairest

When the sun befalls  
To the darkest of all dawns  
Will you, a hero once cherished,  
Perish with the desperate calls?  
Or ask the mirror once again  
Who’s the most fairest, fairest of them all?

When the day is overrun,  
When the mistakes have been done,  
The war will have already be won.

A sword’s tightly gripped in your hand,  
Your breathing is quickened,  
You’re running, running, running  
Falling, falling, falling  
Through the lake of silver glass

“Who’s the fairest of them all?  
Out of all the heroes you’ve seen fall,  
All those you’ve lost to the darkness,  
All those that have gone lost,  
Who’s the one who deserves it most?”

Desperate words, little more than just  
A simple beg and plead.  
You barely murmur them,  
Barely grasp onto the mirror’s hem.

You’ve lost everything -  
You’re nothing more than  
An overused torch, a discarded sword,  
Barely able to make a scratch, praying to a merciless lord  
You’ve lost everything -  
Friends, family, no more to mend, no more to bury

Yet, you still have the nerve, to so desperately ask,  
“Mirror, mirror, grandest of them all,  
Silver so bright, silver so grand,  
Having lost no fight and done all you can,  
May I lastly ask, before I at last pass,  
Who is the fairest of us all?”

As you’re lost, in the very silver you bask,  
The darkness overtakes, with no more lives to be at stake,  
The mirror whispers back, quite able to distort a fact,  
“I.”  
A sly response, a quiet goodbye.

You close your eyes. You smile thinly. No longer can you try, as you know you’re no longer winning. A chance lost, at its very worst cost.  
“I know.”  
Then death, like old dust, settles so.

July 1st, 2018


	2. Hero's Calling

"On the last day," they would often say,  
"When the sun fell low," they often bestow,  
"Death is near;" words none others hear.  
"The ocean will fall behind the sun's ray,  
When light is small and nearly gone  
A hero will arise to correct the wrong."  
A protagonist, they pray - hidden from public's eyes, to have existed all along  
Little, they realize; grown pushed far away, their "hero" is not as seemed.  
Causing the cries, by death often lay, by society naught redeemed.  
With insanity near, raised by serial killers, holding a knife dear.

Though not what often pictured, with his mentality injured,  
a "hero"'s chance must be given, with magic guiding his living.

A quiet cry, heard near and nigh,  
A saddened scream, begging for a dream.  
A darkened thought, no longer being fought,  
Raised up high, it’s darkness no longer a try.  
Belief faded away, hope led astray.  
The star vanished, along with cuts on his wrist.  
A cursed child as seems, tossed away with no means.  
“Nothing,” They’d scold, “worthless,” They’d scoff. Their voices cold, their beliefs standing strong.  
Little, had they truly known, how the boy would be grown. Little, to their knowledge, the heir’s life would be acknowledged.  
A cursed child at first glance, with a gaze as though in a trance. Dead without technology’s help, dead without the damage dealt.  
A small boy, living as though constantly in a childhood. A small annoy, never learning to finally stood.  
Little they would realize, a curse has often its gift.

July 30th, 2018


	3. Forest's Fight

The heavens rest above, showered in love below  
Their angels armed with swords, clouds their shields  
They made desire the lords, greed the fields  
They harvested the constant battlefields,  
Blooming flowers a treasure trove

Staggering above,  
Reaching for the stars,  
The trees climb hard and far  
With the heavenly angels’ trove,  
They spar.

Bark stone,  
Trunk long gone.  
The air’s left stale and still,  
The colors pale and chill.

The shadows stir, unknowingly furious.  
Their morals blur, exceedingly curious.  
They sit and wait, listening to the grotto’s call.  
With only a twisted fate, may the evil fall.

November 19th, 2018


	4. Soldier's Wounds

One soldier slept,  
A book in his arms, blood under his head.  
For so long he trekked,  
Not the wastelands of the littered battlefield,  
But the secret world he lived all throughout,  
From start to end.

Lost for the thousand years,  
The soldier fought with hope.  
With no proper morals, he wrote and wrote.  
Pen tearing through parchment,  
Time's serrated dagger dragged by,  
Sun streaking to moon in the overhead sky.

The raging wars,  
Never left, never stopped the fights.  
The soldier grit his teeth and raised his sword, Shouting and screaming for honor to behold,  
But nobody else bothered nor care.  
Chuckling with the thought  
That such battles could be so consistently fought.  
As he died with his candlelight,  
The bloodied words left unread,  
The stories left untold,  
The demonic wars stayed within his very own mind.

October 3rd, 2019


End file.
